


Second verse, same as the first

by Jack Ironsides (JackIronsides)



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, I think of this as being pre-slash Geraskier jsyk, It's offscreen and not described in detail, Temporary Character Death (Roach)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27075217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackIronsides/pseuds/Jack%20Ironsides
Summary: ‘Geralt. It is too early in the morning for this,’ says Jaskier, as though the sun isn’t approaching its zenith. ‘What do you mean that every horse you own is the same horse.’*The only thing Geralt knows for certain is that Roach will never leave him; not for long, anyway. And he thinks that maybe there’s something tying them to Jaskier, too.Jaskier just wants to know why on earth Geralt would name his horse after a fish.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Roach
Comments: 55
Kudos: 340





	Second verse, same as the first

It takes years for Jaskier to get the full story from Geralt.

They’ve been travelling together for a few weeks when he gets the first piece. He’s lying on a log near the fire staring up into the sky as Geralt cooks their dinner.

‘I'm just saying, it’s an odd name for a horse,’ he says. ‘What did you call your last horse?’

‘Roach.’

Jaskier gapes. He scrambles up into a sitting position and turns around so he can stare at Geralt to properly express his stupefaction. ‘Geralt. _REALLY?_ ’

Geralt hums.

‘And the horse before that?’ he demands.

‘Roach.’

‘And the one before that?’ he asks, slightly hysterically.

‘Roach.’

‘Have you named _every single horse you've ever had Roach?!_ ’

Geralt tilts his head, thinking.

‘Mm,’ he confirms.

‘I can’t—I can’t even—’ Jaskier splutters.

He lies back down on the log, and Geralt turns the meat over on its makeshift spit.

‘Roach. Honestly,’ Jaskier mutters.

*

Jaskier gets the next piece a few years later when they meet up in spring.

‘Hullo, new horse?’ says Jaskier when they meet in a small town in east Redania. ‘What happened to Roach?’

‘This _is_ Roach,’ Geralt says.

Jaskier frowns. ‘This is a different horse from your last horse, Geralt. Your last horse had a white stripe down her face—'

‘It was a blaze,’ Geralt corrects.

‘—And this one does not. She has a star.’

‘And a stripe,’ points out Geralt.

Jaskier waves the correction away. ‘Regardless. What happened to the _last_ Roach?’

‘She was getting distracted,’ says Geralt. ‘I think she normally knows when it’s time. I don’t know how. It was a wyvern, this time. I wish I’d noticed the signs so I could’ve said goodbye beforehand. I know it isn’t really necessary, but ... And she was so frightened, at the end. It wasn’t fast. Poor thing.’

‘ _Fuck_ , Geralt. That’s awful. I’m so sorry. Wait, what do you mean she “knows when it’s time”? Roach wasn’t all that old.’

‘I don’t know how it works,’ says Geralt. ‘I’d ask a mage, but they all charge like wounded bulls, and what am I supposed to say? “Hello, I seem to be cursed or blessed or something so that every time my horse dies, I find her again, so that every horse I own is the same horse”?’ He shakes his head.

Jaskier grabs his arm. He twists out of the grip automatically, then turns to look at his travel companion.

‘What?’ he asks.

‘Geralt. It is too early in the morning for this,’ says Jaskier, as though the sun isn’t approaching its zenith. ‘ _What do you mean that every horse you own is the same horse_.’

He frowns. ‘I told you that. Years ago. When we first met.’

‘No, you didn't.’

‘When we'd been travelling together for a few weeks, I mean. Not in Posada.’

‘ _No. You didn't_ ,’ repeats Jaskier emphatically. ‘I would remember that.’

‘You asked me about my horse’s name.’

‘Yes, and you said they were all called Roach, and then the conversation moved on. You absolutely _did not say anything_ about your horse being anything other than an ordinary horse.’

‘Oh,’ says Geralt.

They’re both quiet for awhile.

‘All of the horses I've owned have been called Roach because they’re all somehow the same horse,’ Geralt offers.

Jaskier looks at him for a long time, then he says, ‘I need a drink. Let’s go find this town’s alehouse so that I can have five or six, and then you can tell me about your immortal horse.’

Geralt snorts, but agrees.

They don’t wind up having another conversation about Roach that day; the publican turns out to be a comely woman who’s recently widowed and knows her own mind. She takes a shine to Jaskier, and he to her, so the planned topic of conversation gets rather forgotten between Jaskier’s flirting and Geralt’s teasing. Later in the afternoon there’s a runner from the local lord’s estate because the gong farmer who’d been meant to clean out the cesspit the night before has been found, bitten clean in two, and Geralt is engaged on the contract to kill the beast which had done it.

The seneschal is in residence but the lord is not, which means that Geralt gets paid on time, in full, without any metaphorical dick measuring, and even with a small bonus as a consideration for the unpleasant circumstances. So all in all, he’s had worse contracts.

There’s plenty of conversation to be had with Jaskier that night, but it mostly consists of a running litany of complaints from Jaskier about the smell.

But he helps Geralt clean up, first with buckets of cold water in the stables, getting the worst off with a rough horse brush, then sitting on a stool by the bath, and finally in the bath itself. And he helps Geralt wash the last of it out of his hair, so clearly Jaskier can’t be too bothered about it.

*

It’s another few years – Geralt isn’t sure how many, truthfully, because seasons seem to flick past far too quickly these days. But it’s awhile after their last conversation on the topic before he gives Jaskier the last piece of the puzzle.

(It will be awhile yet before Jaskier _understands_ , but Geralt doesn’t realise that yet.)

They’ve stopped for the evening in a nice clearing. Plenty of fodder for Roach, and Geralt caught a deer, so they’re eating well tonight.

It’s high summer, which means plenty of daylight to get things done, but it also means trying to turn in before it’s dark if they want to get enough sleep.

The clearing has a number of willows nearby, all with a good amount of fresh growth, so Geralt is spending the evening weaving a new eel pot since the last one came to grief at the hands of a drowner. It’s not the ideal time for cutting canes, but Geralt hasn’t the luxury of biding his time, and he doesn’t have a fixed abode with trees that need to be managed carefully.

Jaskier helped with gathering the willow, then sat on the far side of the fire to work on a new song. Inspiration must’ve run dry, because Geralt realises his lute has been quiet for awhile.

‘How did you know that Roach was Roach, when you met her again for the first time?’ Jaskier asks.

‘I don’t remember,’ says Geralt truthfully. ‘It was a very long time ago. She was the first horse I ever owned, back when I was new to the Path.’

He casts his mind back.

‘It might've partly been that she wasn’t afraid of me, perhaps? Most horses don’t like witchers. We come across as not quite human. Like a predator, like a big wolf going about on two legs. It makes them nervous. It took Roach awhile to warm up to me when we first met, I remember that much. She wouldn’t let me ride her at first. And she was the only horse in that stable that would tolerate me at all.’

Jaskier is keeping unusually quiet. Geralt can feel his eyes on him from across the fire.

‘After that, I just ... knew,’ he says. ‘I knew when I’d find her again. I got a sort of ... sixth sense about it. It doesn’t usually take very long. A week, perhaps two. The longest has been a month; that was rough going. But I never find her before I lose her, if that makes sense.’

‘It’s nice that you get to have her stay with you. That she always comes back,’ says Jaskier lowly. There’s an undercurrent of emotion in his voice that Geralt doesn’t want to examine too closely.

‘Hmm,’ agrees Geralt. He doesn't intend to admit to anything else, but somehow it slips out anyway. ‘She always has another horse with her, when we meet, a hand or so smaller than Roach. I think she’s _meant_ for someone. I think ... I think she might be yours. Roach was annoyed that I was alone the last time. She almost refused to come with me.’

‘Aw, that’s sweet!’ coos Jaskier. ‘I knew she loves me. You should’ve bought the other horse, Geralt! It would be much easier travelling if we both had horses. I could always pay you back.’

Jaskier pauses and thinks that over, then corrects, ‘I could _probably_ pay you back. _Eventually_.’

Geralt snorts. ‘I wasn’t going to wander around for a month with two horses. We’ll meet them again.’

There’s no rush, Geralt knows. They’ll all meet again. It’s the one certainty in his life.

*

The next year, Jaskier wins an eisteddfod, which comes with a significant bursary attached, and Geralt has to stop him from buying the wrong horse.

‘No,’ he says, trying to manoeuvre the bard away.

‘Geralt, what are you talking about?’

‘None of these,’ he says. He gives an unpleasant smile to the horse breeder over Jaskier's shoulder, who pales.

‘Why not?’

‘Not the right one.’

‘Not the—Geralt, don’t be stupid. Now, my good man, about the palfrey—’

‘Not for sale,’ gasps the seller. ‘Nothing for sale today. Go, and take your, your ... _witchman_ with you.’

‘I hope you're happy now,’ huffs Jaskier as they leave. ‘This is just a fiendish plan to ensure my feet stay callused and blistered, you brute.’

Geralt hums. ‘Roach wouldn’t have liked them.’

‘Oh, well, if _Roach_ wouldn’t have liked them,’ snipes Jaskier, almost audibly rolling his eyes. But his anger does melt a little, and he forgives Geralt after he’s bought an apology pint.

*

Geralt never likes having to say goodbye to Roach, even though he knows that they’re never parted for long. But this time Jaskier is with him, and so his grief is tempered with the excitement that Jaskier is finally going to get to meet his horse. Geralt’s been keeping the bulk of Jaskier’s bursary aside for this day (with only mild protests from Jaskier himself, who would have been content to fritter it away on a series of unnecessary luxuries over the intervening time).

Jaskier greets Roach, and is delighted when she recognises him immediately, snuffling about his person for the carrot or apple that he usually carries for her. She’s out of luck, of course; Jaskier ate the last apple a couple of days after they lost her, and hasn’t bought or scrumped any since.

Jaskier makes friends with Roach’s companion almost immediately, as Geralt knew he would. Roach’s companion is a handsome mahogany bay, and she clearly remembers Geralt from their brief meetings, lipping at his sleeve affectionately as he passes. He pats her nose, then gets distracted with his own reunion with Roach. He doesn’t pay much attention to the bay’s first meeting with Jaskier. Most importantly, he doesn’t pay attention to Jaskier’s stupid choice of name until it’s too late.

It’s honestly worse than Roach; at least his first Roach had been a dapple grey, before she had seemingly chosen to come back as a dark chestnut. She had been quick as a silver fish, too. The name had made sense. It’s just that it was a name that made a lot less sense when given to a chestnut horse. And Geralt hasn’t had any control over that.

He waits until the sale is concluded and they’re walking the horses out of town before he gives Jaskier grief.

‘Your one chance to name your horse and you choose Dandelion?’ Geralt smirks. ‘What, you name her after yourself?’

‘What? She likes them; she picked all the dandelions out of the wildflowers I brought to woo her with. I thought it was funny. And dandelions and jaskiers are _nothing alike_ , other than both being yellow. It’s a perfectly fine name. The next one can always be called Champion or Thrasher or whatever. Or Iris; I'm thinking a flower theme is fun.’

‘No,’ says Geralt, suddenly realising. He lets go of Roach’s reins and grabs Jaskier’s arm. He turns him around so they’re face to face. 'You weren’t listening. I haven’t had a series of horses all called Roach. I have had a series of horses, all of whom have _been_ Roach. And she’s always had another horse with her, who you’ve just called Dandelion. There won’t _be_ another horse for you. It’ll _always_ be Dandelion, somehow.’

Jaskier stares at him for a long time, then turns to look at both horses, who’ve turned to graze peaceably on the nearby hedgerow together.

‘Aw, fuck,’ he says.

**Author's Note:**

> I was intending to write something else, but it turned into riff on the Roach reincarnation headcanon I’ve seen in a few places, although [I can only lay my hands on autisticgeralt’s right now](https://autisticgeralt.tumblr.com/post/612399713588822016/consider-roach-reincarnation-au-so-when-geralt). I haven’t gone with their explanation of the Djinn, because it’s inestimably funnier to me if this is just something Just Happens to Geralt, and this fic isn’t really designed to take things seriously.
> 
> I actually have a bunch of Witcher WIPs in various stages of completion over on tumblr (jackironsides, or jackironsidesfic if you just want the fic without my nonsense), by the way. They’ll go up here either when they're done, or when they’ve got what I consider a sufficient chunk to be worth posting.


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